Mature Me Till I Break
by suspensegirlinc
Summary: Post 4x18 - The picture in the paper reflected the state of his heart. Losing Blair had been the last straw. "Do you know what it's like...to not be enough?" oneshot. CB


A/N: There is not enough time in the day or enough space on the internet or any Word document for me to express in detail how furious I am by this last episode. And it wasn't even the angst, though that definitely bothered me. Blair was SO OOC & the whole episode was just written badly – the DBC part I mean. *scoffs* But I digress. If you want to know my full analysis on the episode, you can find it at the top of my profile or on my personal website listed at the bottom of my profile. This oneshot is post episode. I'm sure you can figure it out. It's pretty straightforward, but if you have questions, just ask. ;)

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

…

What was he supposed to do? All he'd been was jealous. That had been it. Maybe he should have realized he was being too insecure, that she would only ever choose him. But he had too little proof of that. She'd rejected him so many times. It was a miracle he got her the couple times he did. There was always some other guy she was willing to put in his place, that she'd believe – even in her denial – was better for her.

He just couldn't believe she might have lowered herself to Dan Humphrey. It was unbelievable how absurd the _thought_ of it even was. And he'd never admit it, but it scared the hell out of him. When Nate had been an option on the table for her, he'd never felt so insecure, so threatened. Potential feelings between Blair and Dan took those vengeful emotions to a whole new level. If Blair could lower herself to that _insolent_ nobody that would _never_ belong, then there wasn't anyone he was safe from. The list of men he'd have to prove he was better than would grow to enormous heights, maybe some he couldn't reach.

But she hadn't had feelings. He'd jumped to conclusions. Just like when they were in high school, when he had a _reason_ to be suspicious. Didn't he now though? After the fact of course he didn't. But things were different for Blair than they were for him sometimes. Sure, he had been involved with Raina. He'd even developed real feelings for her. He was still pissed that she'd hooked up with his best friend almost the second she'd broken up with _him_. But it had considerably lessened after what had happened with Blair. Now it was just another thing that had gone lately. Another thing he couldn't fix. Everything seemed unfixable now. Without Blair, without anyone really – aside from the Van der Woodsen's – he sensed he was very near a break down.

_"If you ever will be…"_

_ If he ever would be?_ What kind of a question was that? Did she really think she was so much better than him that the immature behavior he'd displayed that night could never be redeemed? Wasn't it enough that he felt so incredibly empty inside like he'd never be enough for her now? Like she was gone for good and there was nothing he could do to fix it because she'd gone so far as to think Dan _Humphrey_ was better than _him_? His pathetic picture in the paper said it louder than words ever could. He was _sad_. _Heartbroken_. And so completely _hopeless_.

He threw down the paper upside down so he wouldn't have to look at his pathetic self anymore.

He wished she'd been there.

That night when he'd been going out of his mind with grief, with insanity, she'd had the door shut and she hadn't let him enter. Without saying why she'd pushed him out of her life when he needed her most. Nothing had seemed as bad as learning his father had purposely had an innocent woman burned to death in his own building. His own hotel hadn't been even enough to keep him from killing Russell's late wife. It made him sick inside. Maybe he'd lost touch with Blair throughout the chaos, but he could always count on her being there for him. That night…she wasn't.

"I'm a child," he said aloud, hating how the words sounded flowing so freely from his lips.

_"…but at least he's not a child."_

"I'm a child," he said again, softer this time. Nobody was in the suite to hear him. Nate and Raina for once weren't locked away in Nate's bedroom. They were out doing something, god knows what. It didn't involve a bed, whatever it was. Chuck was grateful for that, but he also could have cared less. Nothing mattered when he didn't have Blair.

He ran his hand through his hair and paced the room, stopping when he reached the window but still feeling unbelievably restless. Maybe he hadn't lost her for good, but the way she'd said those words, her bitter, cold, heartless, uncaring attitude made it sound like there was no way he could get her back. It wasn't like when he'd fought for her before. He couldn't make it work by holding her tight and forcing her to see the chemistry, the history, the magnetism between them. Because he hadn't done anything wrong. He'd acted a little immature and that had set her off. But it wasn't something to make a fuss over. It was just _him_ that was the problem. He wasn't good enough anymore.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. His brows furrowed when he saw who was calling.

"Serena?"

"Hey, Chuck."

"Why are you calling?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"I saw your picture in the paper."

"Ah." Understanding hit. "Well, no need to be overly concerned. I was just tired."

"Chuck…"

"I heard your cousin is moving in for awhile. Sounds lovely."

He heard her sigh and knew that she was actually troubled by the fact he hadn't said anything about hitting on Charlie. Nothing in the slightest. He wasn't with anybody, and he was Chuck Bass. He didn't have a thing to say about hooking up with her cousin – her attractive cousin. He wasn't baring a single defense. Seeing the reflection of his heart in his picture in the paper had crushed him. He hadn't had the time to recoup.

"I talked to Blair."

_No_. His heart crumbled. _Don't say her name. Don't say her name. For the love of God, just…don't. _

"Listen, Serena, as much as I'd love to chat, I have to—"

"Chuck, wait—"

_Click_.

He breathed a sigh of relief and set the phone on a nearby table so he wouldn't have to look at it, so he could pretend that he wasn't hearing it when it went off, not even if it was _her_. He could make up some bogus excuse for anybody else.

Serena was being a good sister. He knew that. He appreciated that she cared that he was broken. She'd always been a nice medium between him and Blair. As the brunette's best friend, it was only natural that she'd side with Blair more often, but she still managed to see both sides. She hadn't even mentioned his manipulation of Dan Humphrey on the phone just now. She'd been worried. _Concerned_. For _him_. He'd heard it when he told her Blair hadn't let him in the week before too.

He just wished she understood him like Blair did – or, like Blair _used_ to. Now she just thought he was too immature to be in a relationship and that he hadn't met her expectations in the slightest, that she was better than him, that he might never be qualified to have her again. He shuddered at those possibilities. She'd never said them straight out, but they had equaled that in his mind and heart and no one was there to set him straight. Serena might have, but he'd shut her out. Only Blair got to see all of him. And now she didn't even—he couldn't…

He was spinning his circles. His mind wouldn't stop running, wouldn't stop torturing him. His heart wouldn't stop aching. He crossed the room to the bar and pulled out a glass along with a bottle of scotch. It would soothe the ache inside him temporarily. It wouldn't fix anything, but it would numb the pain. His heart would stop bleeding.

His phone buzzed again. It turned out it was louder left on the table than it was in his pocket. He couldn't feel it, but he could hear it, and he knew he'd pick it up if he went to turn off the sound. Still, he found himself walking across the room towards it, despite his better judgment. The vibrations stopped right as his hand reached out for it and he froze. But not because he no longer needed to shut off the phone. The call had been from Blair.

Hastily now, he grabbed the phone and searched for missed calls. He hadn't been imagining it. That last one had been from Blair. No new voicemail messages though.

_She'd probably misdialed._

He sighed and found himself grabbing the phone, gripping it tight in his hand and falling into a heap on the couch halfway across the room. The same couch he'd picked out with Blair. The same one they'd cuddled on, made love on, discussed the hope in his future on, _the same_… there was none of that now. He was all alone.

He heard the ding of the elevator and sighed. That was either Nate, Nate with Raina, or some staff member. Lily was also a possibility. For one frozen moment he thought it might be Blair. Unconsciously he sucked in a breath. Then, slowly he stood to his feet and walked cautiously towards the entrance. The tension in him surprisingly intensified.

It was Serena.

"I don't need your pity," he spat, colder than he'd meant to. Deep down he was glad she had come, but the look on her face had made him even more furious at himself than he already was. He didn't think he could take much more.

"I'm not here to pity you, Chuck."

He raised his brows doubtfully. The scotch glinted in the sun at the bar across from him. He walked to it and drank it all in a single gulp. "Shouldn't you be with your cousin? Showing her the town?"

Hesitantly, Serena walked further into the suite.

"No."

She decided not to expand on the reality of Charlie actually out spending the day with Blair, despite them not knowing each other very long.

"Do you need to talk?" she asked gently, approaching the bar he stood behind.

He sighed. "Oh, Serena…"

She heard the bitterness in his voice, but she refused to let it get to her. He _needed_ her, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He needed someone, and Blair had made it clear that she was too overwhelmed by Chuck's immaturity to even approach him at this point.

"Does Blair know you're here?" he asked, pain ebbing through him at the sound of her name.

"No," she said.

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, swallowing another glassful of scotch and filling up the glass again, not as quickly as he had that night a week prior, but still Serena was there to take the half filled glass from him. She ignored his scoff and the agitated shaking of his hands.

"_Chuck_." She laid her hand on his but he snapped it away.

He moved out from behind the bar and past her until he was back at the far window. He had to get some space between them. He couldn't talk anybody while he was in the condition he was. He knew he'd spill his guts. All the pain he was feeling would come out and he couldn't afford that, especially given the fact that Serena would probably report her findings to Blair. Blair would laugh. It would fuel her argument that he was too insecure to handle that all she wanted to do was give him the time he had given her.

His mind shouted at him to tell her to leave but instead he said, "She wasn't there."

He heard the clinking of Serena's heels on the floor as she neared toward him. The soft thump of her purse on the couch made him twitch, because he'd just been there. He'd just been sitting there, thinking about Blair and about how impossible the situation seemed.

"I know," she said.

He didn't know if she knew what he was referring to, but he decided that she did because it was what he needed to hear and it temporarily kept him from exploding.

"She was supposed to be there," he breathed, turning around to face her. "She was supposed to _let me in_." He was crestfallen, broken. Serena looked just as pitying and sympathetic as she had when she walked into the suite, but somehow it didn't bother him now. He needed it.

"Last week after the—"

"Yes." He nodded quickly.

"Chuck…"

Very suddenly she was closing the distance between them and holding him to her as they stood by the window overlooking the city. He didn't know how she got across the room so fast, but in retrospect he did realize her crossing the room steadily since he'd walked away from her.

He didn't let himself cry, and eventually he pushed her away, walking back to the bar.

"Why are you really here, Serena? Nate's out with Raina," he said, taking the glass and bottle of scotch she'd snatched away from him and refilling the glass container, drinking it all in one gulp again.

"Chuck," she said hastily, crossing the room and stealing the scotch and glass away again.

Roughly, Chuck grabbed for the glass, getting it on the second try and unintentionally slamming it down on the bar. He was too swept up in the action to notice Serena jump at the sound. She didn't reach for the glass again, but he was fuming. She was trying to help, but he couldn't take it. He couldn't handle everything that was happening. Losing Blair, everything else… _he wasn't enough_.

He picked up the glass and threw it across the room, staring at the floor as the glass hit the wall and shattered to the ground.

Serena stilled.

"Do you know what it's like—" he asked after awhile, "what it's like to not be enough?" he rasped. "To be too _immature_?" he spat, his eyes cold as ice.

She saw the brokenness in him though. Still there, clear as day. Her eyes closed in agony for him. She didn't know what brought her there, to his hotel's penthouse suite, to console him when Blair was the one who was her best friend. She supported her best friend. She understood her, and what's more, she agreed with her. She also was not pleased by how Chuck had dealt with Dan at the photo shoot.

She'd woken up that morning though with this aching need to help him. She suddenly understood very clearly where he was at with everything and everybody, and knew he was breaking.

"No," he said before he could speak. "Guys are forever pining after you. You're always enough. I'm sure if Blair was—"

"Chuck, stop." She grabbed hold of his shoulders and turned him toward her. "Get a hold of yourself," she said fiercely. "You and Blair are not over."

He looked up at her, his eyes the fiery color of hell reborn. "Of course we are," he said. His voice was deep – scary even. "I'm not enough." He wrenched himself away from her, grabbed the glass bottle of scotch and headed towards his room, stepping on a few pieces of shattered glass on his way and stumbling.

Serena bit her lip, watching him as he left. She baited her time, looking over the room to see if anything was out of order. It wasn't. Aside from the pile of shattered glass on the wall turning into the hallway, everything was spotless. She wondered if she'd been the one to cause him to explode like this. _Maybe she shouldn't have come…_

She pulled out her phone and thumbed her way through the contacts on her list, pausing more than once at Blair's name. She debated calling or texting her, telling her to drop Charlie off somewhere or bring her to the Empire and _she_ would leave with her. There was this sick feeling in her stomach that told her Blair needed to confront Chuck. He wasn't taking her words well. Despite Blair's disappointment in him, she knew she still loved him. And she _hadn't_ been there before, even if seeing Chuck with Raina had broken her. Chuck _needed_ Blair, even if she had every right to put their potential relationship on hold.

But Blair wasn't ready to let Chuck in at all right now. Could she be selfless long enough to help him get over his fears and drowning darkness? Or would knowing that he was in that place drive her even further away?

She walked as far away from Chuck's room as she could manage, and she called Blair.

"Hey," she said quietly.

Blair and Charlie were giggling in the background, chatting about frivolous things she was sure, when Blair answered.

"Hey, S!" she squealed. "When are you going to come back from your 'secret errand' and join us shopping?"

Serena wanted to smile. "Soon."

"As in?" she demanded playfully.

"B, I need you to come here."

Blair stopped walking where she was with Charlie. "What is it?" she asked anxiously. "Is something wrong?"

Serena swallowed hard. She knew she wouldn't accept it. She'd state her reasons again. She'd tell her she wasn't ready, not until he'd grown up more, not until he'd proven himself worthy of her affection again. It was as if she didn't even care that he was hurting. Serena knew that wasn't true, but whenever Chuck had been brought up in the last twenty-four hours…it had seemed that way.

Maybe she shouldn't have come.

"S?" Blair asked worriedly.

Serena could hear the sound of a concerned Charlie in the background. She swallowed her fear and pride, so as to prevent any more needless worry.

"The Empire, Blair."

The tension in the following incredibly lingering three seconds convinced her that she shouldn't have called, despite whatever strange instincts she may have felt. She was about to take her request back when Blair responded.

"Be right there."

…

He heard the ding of the elevator twice. That meant Serena had probably left and someone else had come in. He assumed it was Nate. The click of heels following the ding told him it was a woman – _Raina_ and Nate, he assumed. Scotch was much better from the bottle than in a glass, he decided.

"Get off your ass, Chuck."

Chuck looked up, saw Blair looking at him, disappointment and almost a fleeting amusement on her face and knew he couldn't face her. In that moment he wanted to escape to the ends of the earth, but he would have to get past her to do so. That was impossible. So, he stood to his feet, crossed the room and shut the door in her face, turning the lock.

She folded her arms across her chest and scoffed. "Real mature, Chuck."

The door flung open less than a second after she'd spouted his name. His eyes were intensely directed on hers. She felt as if she were being swallowed whole.

"That's all I'm good for, isn't it? My immaturity?"

She blinked and then her brow furrowed. "Don't pin this on me."

He scoffed. "I wouldn't dare." He shut the door in her face again and headed for his bed, taking the bottle of scotch with him.

"Chuck!" she said in disbelief.

He said nothing.

"_Chuck_," she said again, now twisting the doorknob as many ways as she could in order to get it open. She kicked it finally and then winced because the shoes she'd worn hadn't exactly been ideal. She groaned.

"Fine," she said finally. "If you won't cooperate by at least attempting conversation, then I'll just leave."

He heard the click of her heels and the sound of the elevator going off again. His eyes closed, trying to recover from hearing her voice so vividly and seeing her so close to him, just a foot or two away. But now she was gone, and so was Serena. He could recover now, somehow, if nothing more, for the day.

He sighed and stood to his feet, leaving the bottle of scotch by his lamp. He walked across the room and opened the door. There she stood. Her hand pushed the door open all the way before he could slam it in her face again. He glared at her, but she didn't glare back. Her gaze challenged him but it didn't spout hateful, vulnerable emotions the way his did. He wondered if she would point that out as her maturity versus his immaturity. He didn't want to stay long enough for him to hear it.

"Go home, Blair," he said roughly. There was no amused or mocking look on her face. She simply waited. So, he surrendered. "Or, yell at me again."

"I never _yelled_ at you, Chuck."

"Oh, no, I forgot. You just told me I was _immature_, needed to _grow up_, and that part of you wondered if I ever _could_ do that," he spat. The snark had returned.

"Well, your actions right now certainly don't prove me wrong," she retorted.

He laughed. "So why are you still here then? I heard you last night. I don't need to be hurt twice."

She stared hard at him. "I was going to go back to you. We were going to be together. You ruined all of that."

"I'm well aware of that, Blair." He forced himself to come across somewhat patiently. "Now," he said, "if you'll kindly leave, I can return to being my immature, seventeen-year-old, snarky self. You know, the guy you never approved of and who was never enough?"

Her eyes narrowed suddenly.

"Yeah, _him_."

He pulled back to close the door again, but she pushed it in further just as she'd started to lessen the pressure.

"Maybe I'll even try to reinvent myself overseas again and see if I can get myself shot in another alley where a prostitute can pick me up."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic, Chuck." She rolled her eyes, though maintaining her hand forcefully on the door.

His jaw clenched. He didn't know what to say. He'd known it was going to be like this. He'd known she'd tear him apart and that his broken heart would bleed in the most hurtful way right in front of her. But she wasn't hurting. If anything, she was either annoyed or amused. Neither appealed to him. He wanted to get out. He also planned on never allowing Serena to try to "comfort" him again.

"Why are you here?" he demanded.

She blinked, as if she hadn't been expecting that question. "Serena called me. She was worried."

"And you came because you wanted to torment me further with more of your talk about how I couldn't handle a relationship right now if I tried?"

"Not a good one," she defended. "You obviously made one work with Raina for awhile. She was _sacred_, if I recall."

His head reared back a little. He was confused. His defenses were not up, but he would not dare ask the question of how she knew he'd called Raina that, or even how he'd assumed she was that particular thing to him.

Blair closed her eyes briefly and then looked at him, bracing herself for the revelation she was about to tell, and for the first time looking human to him.

"I was in the closeted area in that fairytale bedroom you created for Raina when the two of you broke up." Her bottom lip quivered. "I heard everything."

Nothing he would say now would work. It wouldn't help him or her and it wouldn't make sense. But his mouth spoke without permission from his brain.

"I liked her," he said. "I didn't love her."

"I didn't even like Dan," she said. "The only person I ever wanted was you."

He stiffened. "But you don't want that anymore, do you?"

Her lips parted.

"It's okay," he said, somehow managing not to explode again. "Don't worry, I'll be alright. I'll be _perfectly immature_ and alright, and you'll find your prince charming. He might even be Humphrey."

Her hand was too light on the door. Chuck grabbed hold of it and slammed it in her face, _hard_. She bit her bottom lip hard, willing herself not to cry. Then she did turn away from the door and started to walk toward the elevator.

"Fine, Chuck."

She stormed into the living room then and grabbed a pillow, throwing it forcefully across the room. She nearly screamed. Somehow she managed to keep most of the noise inside her mouth by pursing her lips tightly and grinding her teeth.

_It wasn't supposed to be this hard_, she thought. _It wasn't supposed to hurt like this_. She wasn't supposed to want to give it all up and pretend they never happened, if only to erase all the pain.

His feet padded down the hall and she stopped her spurred on meltdown the moment she felt him outside of his room. She turned to face him. He looked fierce but vulnerable, angry but broken, like he wanted her to leave but was petrified of what would happen if she did.

"Why don't you just stop loving me?" he asked, so quietly she was surprised she heard it.

She sighed shakily. "It's not that simple," she barely got out.

He nodded. "But you want to," he said, looking down at the floor and its shards of glass.

"I don't know what I want anymore, Chuck." She sighed.

He flinched, pain flooding through him again. He couldn't take much more of this. He couldn't take hearing that she didn't want him, that he wasn't enough, over and over again until she'd lost her voice. It was bad enough he thought those very thoughts on repeat and that her words from last night felt like they would never stop beating him in his dreams, his ever constant nightmares.

He walked past her and pressed the button for the elevator again, needing her to leave. "Probably best that you go find out then," he said tightly, willing himself not to break down again.

She nodded once and it crushed him. He wanted contradiction on her end. He wanted her to prove him wrong, to tell him she loved him, something – anything, so that he wouldn't feel so hopeless and like the only thing short of him disappearing again was where Lily stood on the whole matter of her prison term.

She stopped just in front of him, about five feet before the now opened elevator doors.

"You were my first true love, Chuck," she said sincerely.

_Were_ burned him.

"You are my only love," he said softly.

She looked at him for a long time. He didn't know if she wanted to say something, but she never did. Eventually, she walked past him and into the elevator. He didn't watch her go.

When the doors closed again, the fury burned in him. He took everything he could find – liquor, glasses, bottles, pillows, other intatimate objects; They all were up against the wall, shattered, destroyed, displaying the state of his heart. He yelled to the empty suite. He pushed the remaining bottles off the bar in one all-consuming shove. He stormed into his bedroom and found a full-length mirror. He punched it, hard. His knuckles bled.

He didn't hear the ding of the elevator for what must have been its fourth or fifth time. He only knew that there was someone in the room when he stormed back into the living room. He turned to look and saw the beautiful Blair Waldorf back in the room, back where he was. He must have looked horrible, angry, dangerous. It dawned on him in this daze that her purse was sitting now emptied on the floor just beneath the bar's countertop.

He was tense, but it eased slightly when he realized how out of control he'd gotten. Slowly, he edged toward her purse, very aware of Blair heading in the same direction. She was hesitant though, and he didn't blame her. When it came down to it, he couldn't bend down and retrieve the purse. He couldn't even make it within a foot of it.

Blair stopped when he did, and then she moved. He was so numb he didn't even register her wrapping her arms around him. Moments passed before he finally eased into her embrace, let her hold him, and eventually held her to him. He started to cry.

"I needed you," his muffled voice made out.

She stroked his hair soothingly, not saying anything. She didn't understand, but she knew weighted words when she heard them, especially when they were accompanied with intense emotions. These words weren't being used to fight for her either. They were made of pure vulnerable _need_.

"That night…last week…" He pulled his head back to look into her concerned eyes. He blinked to rid himself of the tears he wished hadn't come. His eyes were tinted red. His face looked weary. "Russell—" he cleared his throat, straining for the ability to speak clearly. "Russell was trying to destroy my father's company because my father is responsible for his wife's _death_."

Nothing could have prepared her for that. The hurt in his eyes, his face, his sudden need to have her again. Everything suddenly made sense. She still believed he needed to mature, but for the first time since their almost encounter a week ago, she actually felt guilty. Maybe she needed time, maybe it was too sudden and maybe she was hurt over his moving on. But she had always been there for him. She should have considered that he really, truly needed her.

His eyes were wide, desperate. He was suddenly terrified that she would leave right then, and he would crush himself further, telling himself he deserved it.

"I'm sorry," she heard herself saying. Then, she pulled his head to hers and laid it in the crook of her neck.

He nearly collapsed against her. "You should go, Blair," he said after awhile, very quietly. "I don't want you to see this. I have to…" he sighed, "grow up first, become a better man, more mature, more…"

"Shh," she whispered against his skin, her fingers threading themselves through his hair again.

She didn't respond to his accusations vehemently this time, because he was being so gut-wrenchingly honest and afraid he'd lose her, if he hadn't already. The mother in her couldn't help but respond to it with all the love she held for him. When it came to circumstances like this, nothing else mattered but fixing him. Maybe she wanted him to just get over his fears over choosing someone other than him, but this was a different matter entirely. This was something he needed her for. She'd regret it forever if she couldn't be there for him for at least that.

"It's okay," she said soothingly. "It's okay, Chuck. It's okay…"

With his head resting in the crook of her neck, she scanned the room, bleeding from the sight of it, of what he'd done, because she'd hurt him. He'd hurt her being with Raina, but she hadn't reacted like this. When Chuck self-destructed, there was evidence everywhere.

He was too weak to push her away, to throw her prior words in his face. He was in too much pain and she was holding him and he just…couldn't fight it. So, he let her guide him to his bedroom where nothing but an empty scotch glass bottle sat next to the lamp by his bedside. He let her lie him down softly and climb in behind him. He let her pull him against her, wrap her arm around his waist.

"Go, Blair," he managed. "I don't think I could stand it if I woke up and you weren't here." His voice broke and a tear dripped down her cheek.

"I-I'll be here," she promised.

"Blair—"

She kissed his skin from just beneath his jaw to his temple, avoiding his lips so as not to cause controversy as to what that might mean. But everywhere else she kissed. More of his tension slipped out.

"Trust me, Chuck," she said softly. "I'll be here."

He was still a little tense, so she pulled him closer to her, so her arm was snug around his waist.

"I'll tell you before I leave," she said. "I won't leave."

He relaxed, and in kind, so did she.

They were so complicated, and so far from normal. It seemed there was never a right or perfect time for them, but there was always what they had, which was an unshakable love and protection and an understanding that would never be comprehensible to anybody else. When it hit to places no one else could reach, everything else was pushed aside and it was just _them_.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, but his breathing was already even. He was asleep. She settled her head into the pillow beneath her head. She thought briefly of texting Serena to tell her she wouldn't be home soon, but her phone lay in the heap of things spread out of her spilled out purse in the living room. Serena would have to wait.

She'd promised him she wouldn't leave.

_"I'll always be your family."_

….

A/N: Omg. SO long. Lol. In case you couldn't tell, I'm very team Chuck from tonight's/last night's episode. Please don't flame if you side more with Blair. I did take every perspective into consideration w/ this o/s, even if I sided more with Chuck than any of the others. I was even pretty choked up at several points throughout writing this. heh. Hope you enjoyed it and didn't find it _too_ terribly unrealistic. Please review. ;p


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